tracks of blood inscrib'd the dusty ground. Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe, To Pallas' fane in long procession go,In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe.
They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair, And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear;
But the stern goddess stands unmov'd with pray'r. Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew
The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew. Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold, The lifeless body of his son is sold.
So sad an object, and so well express'd,
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Drew sighs and groans from the griev'd hero's breast,
To see the figure of his lifeless friend, And his old sire his helpless hand extend. Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train, Mix'd in the bloody battle on the plain;
And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew, His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew. Penthisilea there, with haughty grace,
Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:
In their right hands a pointed dart they wield; The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield. Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws, Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,
And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose. Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,
Fix'd on the walls with wonder and surprise, The beauteous Dido, with a num'rous train And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane. Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height, Diana seems; and so she charms the sight, When in the dance the graceful goddess leads
The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads: Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,
She walks majestic, and she looks their queen; Latona sees her shine above the rest,
And feeds with secret joy her silent breast. Such Dido was; with such becoming state, Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great. Their labor to her future sway she speeds, And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;
Then mounts the throne, high plac'd before the shrine: In crowds around, the swarming people join.
She takes petitions, and dispenses laws, Hears and determines ev'ry private cause; Their tasks in equal portions she divides, And, where unequal, there by lots decides. Another way by chance Aeneas bends
His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends, Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong, And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng, Whom late the tempest on the billows toss'd, And widely scatter'd on another coast.
The prince, unseen, surpris'd with wonder stands, And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands; But, doubtful of the wish'd event, he stays,
And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys, Impatient till they told their present state,
And where they left their ships, and what their fate, And why they came, and what was their request;
For these were sent, commission'd by the rest, To sue for leave to land their sickly men,
And gain admission to the gracious queen. Ent'ring, with cries they fill'd the holy fane; Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began: "O queen! indulg'd by favor of the gods
To found an empire in these new abodes, To build a town, with statutes to restrain The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,
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We wretched Trojans, toss'd on ev'ry shore, From sea to sea, thy clemency implore. Forbid the fires our shipping to deface! Receive th' unhappy fugitives to grace,
And spare the remnant of a pious race!
We come not with design of wasteful prey, To drive the country, force the swains away: Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;
The vanquish'd dare not to such thoughts aspire. A land there is, Hesperia nam'd of old;
The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold-
Th' Oenotrians held it once-by common fame
Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name. To that sweet region was our voyage bent, When winds and ev'ry warring element
Disturb'd our course, and, far from sight of land, Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:
The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar, Dispers'd and dash'd the rest upon the rocky shore. Those few you see escap'd the Storm, and fear, Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.
What men, what monsters, what inhuman race, What laws, what barb'rous customs of the place, Shut up a desart shore to drowning men,
And drive us to the cruel seas again?
If our hard fortune no compassion draws, Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,
The gods are just, and will revenge our cause. Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord,
Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword; Observant of the right, religious of his word. If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,
Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair; Nor you, great queen, these offices repent, Which he will equal, and perhaps augment. We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts, Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts. Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,
Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,
That, if our prince be safe, we may renew
Our destin'd course, and Italy pursue. But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain
That thou art swallow'd in the Libyan main, And if our young Iulus be no more,
Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore, That we to good Acestes may return,
And with our friends our common losses mourn." Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew
With cries and clamors his request renew.
The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes, Ponder'd the speech; then briefly thus replies: "Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,
And doubts attending an unsettled state,
Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes. Who has not heard the story of your woes, The name and fortune of your native place, The fame and valor of the Phrygian race?
We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,
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Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence. Whether to Latian shores your course is bent, Or, driv'n by tempests from your first intent, You seek the good Acestes' government,
Your men shall be receiv'd, your fleet repair'd, And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard: Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow'rs To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow'rs,
My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.
And would to Heav'n, the Storm, you felt, would bring
On Carthaginian coasts your wand'ring king. My people shall, by my
